


02. Gap

by strangeera



Series: Blew It [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, High School, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeera/pseuds/strangeera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>drugs, the internet, first kisses and the graveyard. fucking caprice. sterek high school au. vignette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	02. Gap

We’re at the graveyard behind Stiles’ house, and I have his too warm, eager mouth around my softly buzzing dick, sucking hard and forever, like there’s something valuable inside of me he’s trying to unearth, but slowly. My jeans and boxers around my ankles, and there’s a tombstone beneath my cold bare ass that looks like an angel laying down and crying, bed shaped.

 

The air in the graveyard is shimmering tonight, too warm, and my face feels wet and too heavy – I can think of nothing but the mouth, and the confluence of the temperature; the air and the cold stone beneath me, makes my dick dribble and my eyeballs threaten to explode from their slimy sockets. My wet dick slides from his mouth, and he looks up at me from beneath the camo snapback, eyes basically void and black in the descending dusk and the lust, mouth slightly curved; pink and grateful, says, “Derek,” like it’s blasphemous, nibbles at the tip of my dick and c bdsakgdwkhbvcbn bnc aqwjefm,vb I’m losing it man, melting dick first into his body, down the throat.

 

The soundtrack: bug noises. The wind. Sucking sounds. Heavy breathing – both. A flat, wet palm snaked under my navy abercrombie t-shirt and held flat against my stomach, pushing, wanting more. Take it all, then. The hot mouth around my dick like a vacuum and the merging temperature and I’m receding, reverting to ancestral ooze inside his mouth, and down. The body beneath us. Upbeat Taylor Swift song from Stiles cracked iPhone, pounding. The brown dirt stains on the knees of his jeans. My dick hitting the back of his throat like the hammer game at the fair, jackpot.

 

Nah.

 

I’m at my locker in the high school corridor, pushing things around in a faux aggrevated kind of way, pretending to look futilely for the calculus book I left at home this morning (looked at it sadly, then left without it), listening to the two of them, and Stiles was just here, talking quickly about some dumb iPad game he downloaded last night, chewing gum, black and white sneakers, but now he isn’t, and Caprice isn’t even a name, fuck. I don’t understand

 

because last night we got high in my bedroom, leaning against each other against the wall on my bed, watching racist prank calls on YouTube, and he was wearing a white t-shirt that said “Harvard Law, just kidding,” gently fingering the skinny joint in his hands and he said: “tell me something nobody knows,” and I said: “like what?” and I started to laugh, smoke pouring out of me like mist because I was so nervous and he said: “I don’t know, just something important,” and he seemed sad. The ashtray was full.

 

They’re a few feet away from me in the corridor, and Caprice is wearing dip dyed blue skinny jeans that look amazing on her tiny hips, and a t-shirt that says “ask me about my ninja disguise” and please don’t ask her about the ninja disguise, Stiles, please, and her lipstick is pink, but dirty pink, porno pink that repulses me a little because she looks so fucking good, and there’s a lollipop between her porno pink lips and a gap between her dip dyed legs.

 

And last night in my bedroom I’d said: “do you ever wake up at like, four am and think about all the dumb things you’ve ever said, and kind of want to kill yourself,” and he looked at me for a long time and didn’t say anything, and I saw that he had half a boner, and so did I.


End file.
